Alicia+George
by sonadora virtuoso7
Summary: a very short romantic interlude- george/alicia [you don't see many of these! :(.. in fact, you don't see any!!] btw: check out the sequal: Fred and George or Gred and Forge?


Story: Alicia + George

Rating: PG

Summary: a very short romantic interlude- george/alicia [u don't see many of these! : ( ]

Disclaimer: I don't own Alicia, George, Fred, Angelina, Katie, Lee and everything else that are in JK Rowling's books... I do own the plot.

Author's Note: Tell me what you think! but do not, absolutely DO NOT FLAME ME!!! I got one on my very first story which really pissed me off.. so... I would reaaaally appreciate it if you people were tactful.. meaning don't call me names!!! thanx... : )

A soft breeze brushed by me and through my thick brown curls. I shivered despite the fact that it was a fairly warm March weekend. I looked around me as the black-robed students piled out of the Entrance Hall, making their way to Hogsmeade, talking and laughing. Others were walking around the grounds, sitting by the lake.

It was a typical afternoon at Hogwarts, one that I would spend alone. Angelina and Fred were at Hogsmeade together and invited me to come along with them, but I declined politely. I knew they were looking forward to spending time alone for once. Lee had detention and Katie, to her dismay, was being tutored by a Ravenclaw because she was failing terribly in Transfiguration.

As for George- actually, I don't know where he was. I thought about George and smiled softly. Everyone thinks he and Fred are completely identical. How very wrong they were. Fred was so impulsive, headstrong, and stubborn and I marvel at how Angelina can handle him! Only Angelina. George was much more open-minded and thoughtful. Don't get me wrong, he's still the mischievous and playful boy everyone (well, almost everyone) loves, but that's just a sugar coating. I know the real George; I know the difference.

I stopped walking. I had know idea where my feet were carrying me, but I found myself in front of the deserted Quidditch field- all except for a familiar red-head flying around the field, pelting bludgers. I watched as he made a swift turn around the bludger and hit it hard with his club. It zoomed away several feet and rocketed back towards him. I smiled as I got a broomstick out of the rack by the lockerooms.

"George!" I yelled waving to him. He hit the bludger again and waved to me. "Watch out!" I screamed, but he had already dived to the ground. The bludger came pelting down to him, but with a leap, he tackled it down.

"Do you mind getting the box?" he panted.

"Oh, of course, sorry," I replied picking up the wooden crate. He shoved it inside and I quickly locked it up.

"Thanks," he grinned trying to catch his breath. I smiled back. He eyed the broom in my hand. "It's kinda hard playing with the quaffle by yourself."

"Why don't you have a go?" I replied. "See how good a chaser you are- or how bad," I grinned.

"Why not?" he shrugged mounting his broom again. I grabbed the quaffle and followed him up. Actually, he wasn't as bad as I thought he would be.

"You're pretty good," I commented flying over to him after he scored a goal.

"I know," he said airily blowing on his nails. I giggled. "Not that I'm going to take your spot as chaser," he grinned at me.

"I would never speak to you again if you did that," I teased.

"Really?! Then on second thought-" I smacked him playfully.

"You can't replace me!" I cried out with mock indignance. "I'm a better flyer!" George yawned, leaning back on his broomstick. "Don't mock me!" I motioned to hit him again, but he swerved away.

"HA- owww," he rubbed the back of his head where I hit him.

"Don't I feel stupid," I remarked. "I try to hurt you and I hit the only part of your body that isn't useful!" He pretended to scowl at me, but I could tell he wasn't mad; his eyes were sparkling and the corners of his mouth were twitching.

"Take that back, Spinnet," he hissed. I tossed my curls over my shoulder and shook my head.

"Never!" I replied. George lunged towards me, but I jerked away, avoiding him easily. I stuck my tounge out at him. With a grin he chased after me as I zig-zagged past the goals, laughing. I looked over my shoulder to see where he was and blinked. He was nowhere in sight. Where could he-?

"Arghh!" I yelped as I felt his arms around my waist, pulling me back and off my broom. I struggled out of his grasp which made him laugh even more. I spun my head around to yell at him and froze. George stopped laughing abruptly and looked into my eyes. His face was so close to mine that our noses almost touched. I blushed, conscious that I was sitting on his lap and how his strong arms wrapped tightly around my waist, gripping my rib cage. Bright eyes sparkling, he pulled a hand up from my stomach and brushed away a ringlet from my face. I held my breath as his fingers lingered around my mouth, tracing my lips lightly. I closed my eyes as he brought his head down, replacing his fingers with his lips. They brushed my own with the utmost care and tenderness. As the kiss deepened and our tounges twined together, I wrapped an arm around his neck, letting my fingers weave into his soft, red hair. He made a noise against my mouth which must have been a sigh. His grip around my waist had tightened as if he was afraid I was going to fall off the broom.

Slowly, he pulled away and I opened my eyes. We had sunk back to the ground and our brooms dangled several feet from the ground. George's forehead was red and he was grinning broadly.

"So..." he muttered, his hazel eyes looking intently into my blue ones.

"So," I whispered in the same tone.

"Where do we go from here?" he continued.

"I-I'm not sure," I admitted, not taking my eyes off him. "I'm sure about one thing, though," I whispered, sliding my hand 

to his cheek.

"What's that?" he murmured back.

"This." I pulled his head down and kissed him again. And again. And again.

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